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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22902478">a study in anger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics'>fluffysfics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, F/M, Gen, Introspection, shipping is only very vague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:01:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22902478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master starts his new life off alone, and finds himself full of rage unlike anything he’s ever felt before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a study in anger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master wakes up alone, in a forest, in clothes that are squeezing him so tight that he can barely breathe. Regeneration energy has ripped through the fabric in places, and it’s no hard task to reach up with shaking hands and rip through the rest, enough that he can finally fill his lungs with air. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Doctor?” Oh. His voice is deep now; a man’s voice again. He lifts his hands to his face, finds a beard, and hair just long enough to brush against his forehead if he shakes his head. Where is he? How long has he been asleep? What- oh. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Oh. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Missy died. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He blinks, and suddenly his head is full of memories of pain, of every cell in his body being flayed and burned beyond repair. The Master tenses, curls in on himself, and a coughing fit wracks his body, choking him until finally, a wisp of leftover golden energy escapes his mouth. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>With that out of his system, he slumps back against the ground, and stares up at the sky. Surely he can’t have been out for long, because the Doctor would have found him by now. But...everything is quiet. He can’t hear even the faintest sounds of a battle taking place. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master gives himself one minute to rest, and then pushes himself up to his feet. Immediately, he winces, kicks off Missy’s shoes, and then starts to slowly walk back towards civilisation. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Except...he finds not civilisation, but a battlefield. Fires still burning, the wrecked bodies of Cybermen littering the ground. This is the Doctor’s handiwork, through and through. So- where is the man of the hour?</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He calls out again, surprising himself once more with the new sound of his voice. Different accent, too; that was a shame. They weren’t going to match anymore, whenever they found each other. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master searches for six hours before coming to the conclusion that the Doctor has left him behind. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Really, the thought had been prickling at the edge of his mind since hour two. He’d just been pushing it aside, <em>sure</em> that the Doctor wouldn’t throw away everything they’d built over one measly little fake betrayal. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But he was alone, the Doctor was nowhere to be found. When the realisation hits him, the Master falls to his knees, fists slamming into the ground over and over as a <em>scream</em> of frustration rips from his throat. The thing he’d wanted for so many years, voluntarily locked himself away and worked for, torn from his grasp in an instant. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He stands, with bloodied fists and a raw throat, and realises that this regeneration is <em>angry</em>. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The first time he sees the Doctor this regeneration, it’s not Eyebrows. It’s Bowtie, and for that one, Gallifrey is just fine. Hidden away safely in a pocket dimension. The Master’s hands still burn red with the blood of dead Time Lords. His skin still reeks of smoke and ash, no matter how many times he scrubs at it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But he has a plan, a revenge fantasy that he’s spent weeks brooding over, so he shoves down his rage at the Doctor and his general disgust at the Earth, and inserts himself into MI6. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>O is a sweet, kind man, bubbling with conspiracy theories and clever thoughts and intelligence. The Doctor is dazzled by him at first sight, when they meet at UNIT’s headquarters on the day of a particularly puzzling alien invasion. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master doesn’t even have to <em>try</em> before Bowtie gives him his phone number, and jumps back in his TARDIS with a wiggle of his not-eyebrows and an order to call him, if O ever felt like seeing something extraordinary. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>O beams at him and waves as he leaves, and then when he’s gone the Master scowls and kicks a chair halfway across the room so hard it dents the wall. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He can’t bring himself to call the Doctor, so he texts instead. It’s occasional at first, just to set up a relationship. That’s important to his plan, the relationship. Bowtie texts with too many exclamation marks and not enough capital letters, and the Master just rolls his eyes and goes along with it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It’s not too long before he finds himself texting Eyebrows instead. They keep in touch less often. The Master misses it. The Master pretends he doesn’t miss it, and tells himself he’s going along to the Doctor’s lectures (in disguise, of course) just to keep an eye on him. He wonders when he’ll have the chance to spring his plan into action. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And then one day, he isn’t texting Eyebrows anymore. That comes as a surprise, when the Doctor updates her- <em>her!</em>- WhatsApp profile picture, to a woman with blonde hair, a brilliant smile, and the most perfect eyes that the Master has ever seen. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He doesn’t have a vaguely demeaning nickname for this version of the Doctor. She’s the Doctor, and he <em>has</em> to meet her in person. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They text every day, for a while. She sends him photos of planets, of nebulae, of smiling humans- Graham and Ryan, who she tells him are related, and Yaz, who is not related and who is <em>clearly</em> crushing on the Doctor. The Master wonders if she knows she’s fallen in love with one of the most dangerous creatures in the universe. Wonders if she knows how much he wants to choke the life out of her for getting so close to <em>his</em> Doctor. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Doctor opens up to him eventually, because she trusts him. She tells him how tired she is, how she’s not even sure she wants to be doing this, how hard it is to be good sometimes. O texts her words of comfort and reassurance, reminding her of her worth and her brilliance. The Master sneers and thinks about how excellent the look on her face will be when she realises who she’s been crying to all this time. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A not-insignificant part of the Master knows that O’s kind words to her are coming from <em>somewhere</em>, and he just doesn’t want to admit where, because he’s angry and he has a plan and he can’t stop now. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His plan is in motion and he <em>really</em> can’t stop now, he knows the Doctor will hate him for this, <em>wants</em> her to hate him. Wants her to know the betrayal he felt, all alone on a space station hanging dangerously close to a black hole. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And yet, the smile that spreads across his face when he hears her TARDIS materialise is utterly genuine, and he hates himself for it more than he could ever hate her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her face when she finds out who he is fills him with a wild elation, the pure thrill of a plan perfectly executed. It also shatters his hearts into a million pieces, and there’s a moment where the Master wants to drop everything and beg for her friendship back. He doesn’t. He lets the Kasaavin send her away, and wonders when she’ll show up again. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>1834, as it turns out, is when he sees her again. He makes the Doctor kneel for him, because he doesn’t know what else to do. Doesn’t know how to talk to her if he can’t keep some modicum of control, doesn’t stick to what he’s known all his lives. He still wants his friend back, even though she left him for dead. He can’t have her back, so he falls easily into his old ways of threats and flirting being one and the same, of killing people just for the fun of it, just to see her wince. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She strands him in Paris. He can’t talk his way out of an arrest, but he can fake a heart attack in his cell and then murder every filthy Nazi in the building when they come to check on him. The Master makes sure they all die slowly, and he sets the building on fire behind him. He hasn’t been this angry since Gallifrey, and it’s all the Doctor’s fault. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He sees various incarnations of the Doctor in brief glimpses over the next 77 years. He travels carefully, avoiding any major events or crossing his own timeline. Earth is a dump, and the Master hates it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And yet, he finds himself fascinated by the space race, by the Cold War, by the punks and rebel queers and misfits of the 1980s. The fringes and brutal extremes of society are so much more interesting than the sweet, innocent people that the Doctor is always preaching about. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>77 years is nothing in the lifespan of a Time Lord, and yet it feels longer even than his time as the Doctor’s pet in the vault. He wants to see her again. His anger cools from a bubbling volcano to a cold, hard lump in his chest, and at some point, he wants to make her apologise. Wants to know how it feels to be morally <em>right</em>, and have her admit her wrongdoing to him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He doesn’t get a chance to lord it over her. They meet again in 2020, and he’s in the Doctor’s presence for all of five minutes before she turns his plan against him and, once again, leaves him stranded and alone. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>This time it’s his fault. He’s angry again, but it’s at no one but himself. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>This regeneration is angry, and he hasn’t had a chance yet to really tell the Doctor <em>why</em>. He could have talked to her on the plane, or in 1834, but the plan, always the plan, had to come first. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>This regeneration is so angry that it clouds his judgement, makes him burn through the good things in his life before he even gets the chance to think about what he’s doing. Trapped in the Kasaavin’s dimension, the Master makes himself a promise. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He’s going to get out. And when he does, he’s going to tell the Doctor everything. </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really love the idea of the Master becoming reluctantly fascinated with Earth fringe cultures in the time he’s forced to spend there and SOME day I’m gonna find the fanart of him dressed like a punk in a spiky leather jacket that we all deserve</p></blockquote></div></div>
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